The Freak Epiphany
by WinchesterPhantom
Summary: XMen xover. The Winchesters always knew they were freaks, hunting does that to a man. But what if their oddities didn't stop there? What if they were 'supernaturally' evolved? Post X2 & AHBL2. DISCONTINUED
1. The Beginning of Mutation

**Summary: **X-Men xover. The Winchesters always knew they were freaks; hunting does that to a man. But what if their oddities didn't stop there? What if they were 'supernaturally' evolved? Post X2 & AHBL2.

**Disclaimer:** Sadly I do not own Supernatural or X-Men and if I did why would I be wasting my time writing fanfiction? Couldn't I just go and make this a reality, so it would canon? Anyway Supernatural and X-Men belong to their respective owners.

* * *

**Prologue: The Beginning of Mutation**

_Since the dawn of existence there have always been moments when the course of history has shifted. Over twenty two years ago such an event occurred when two young brothers took up the Hunt._

_Their conflict against evil and indeed other's conflict was merely the building blocks for the final battle. When a time comes for humans, hunters and mutants to unite as one, there will be no turning back. The outcome will change the world so greatly, and victory may not even by possible._

_Great sacrifice will be needed and the fate of many will be decided when humanity makes it last stand._

_- Professor X_

* * *

_**Blue Star Apartments, Queens, New York City, New York**_

"Dean, pay attention," growled John, as his oldest son's eyes darted from the TV to him. Dean sighed and turned his fierce green eyes to his dad. He said in a soft tone, "Yes sir,"

"That's better. This is important – now remember –"

"Go straight to school and home again. Don't let anyone into this room other than Sammy and I, and if someone does come in shoot first, ask questions later. Don't answer the phone, if it's you, you'll hang up and then ring again. I know dad, I won't make the same mistake again," said the thirteen year old at top speed. John had to admit Dean hadn't let him down since that day, but it still didn't stop him from worrying that another slip up had happened. John knew that Dean would never intentionally endanger his little brother, but he was young and ready to make mistakes.

"Okay Dean, and if I'm not back by Sunday night?"

"Call Pastor Jim, and if I can't get onto him, Caleb," said Dean, "And also watch Sammy – very carefully,"

John nodded, "That's my man," and he took one last look at his youngest son, as he lay fast asleep on the couch, his curly brown mop the only part visible under a large blanket. He ruffled Dean's hair, picked up a bag and guns, and he left the motel room.

He pushed his belongings into the car boot and as he drove away from the apartment block, he threw back one last glance, praying that his sons would be safe.

* * *

"C'mon Sammy, get up," said Dean at eight in the morning as he stood above the couch where his little brother lay fast asleep. The nine year olds' eyes fluttered open, and a soft perky voice said, "Herro,"

Dean sighed and went into the kitchenette and began to prepare breakfast, and wished he hadn't woken Sammy up after John had left to watch Home Alone; the poor kid was exhausted especially after the coke.

"Sam, get up," said Dean. Sam grumbled, but rose and went into the bedroom. As Dean poured out the cereal, he could hear Sam rummaging in the bags. Sam came out dressed in a baggy flannel shirt, ripped jeans and thick soled boots. Sam sat up at the table and quickly dug into the Lucky Charms cereal. Dean was about to join his younger brother but froze as a strange ringing filled his ears. His eyes widened and he felt his hand shaking, slightly. God…he felt so weird…so…

"Dean?" asked Sam, curiously staring at him.

"What?"

"You okay?"

"Peachy," offered Dean, throwing a weak smile though he actually felt like his head would explode. It was as if suddenly he had a million different emotions rocketing within him, and he didn't know how to react to them. He glanced at the clock and seeing as he had forty five minutes to get to school he hurried Sam along.

Soon the two brothers – wrapped in thick coats and scarfs, with matching mittens over their hands, were trudging through the snow covered footpath to school, the icy cold wind trying to push them to the ground as they walked. Dean listened as Sam went on about how water was seeping through his shoes, and whether or not he would get frostbite. Dean, who normally would have listened intently to Sam, but this time he couldn't, his mind was else where, escaping from the pain that racked his head.

They soon reached Sam's Primary School, which was a classic red brick building that now seemed to lie under a thick layer of snow. The two brothers watched as children ran from their parent's car and to the building. Dean envied the kid's that got driven to school – that was luxury they didn't have. He sighed and glanced at his watch.

"Meet me out the front after school Sammy," said Dean, briskly.

"Okay, see you later!" said Sam, hugging Dean tightly. Dean smiled slightly but then pushed away his little brother, gesturing for him to go to school. He watched carefully as Sam walked cautiously up to the school building, careful not to slip and fall into the ice.

As soon as Sam was inside, Dean went off at full speed towards the Middle School, praying that he'd get there in time. As he walked his headache only got worse.

He sat through class after class, barely taken notice as his teachers talked. It seemed as alien thoughts were invading his mind, making him feel a range of different emotions pounding in his subconscious.

Finally as last period started, he felt like he could explode, literally. His head pounded and he felt slightly numbed. Words passed through him, as his concentration slipped until his head lay on his desk.

"Dean?" came a light female voice from above him. Dean glanced up to see his Maths teacher, Ms. Mein, watching him closely. He shivered slightly as a web of motherly concern seemed to seep into him. He was sure it was coming from her, but her expression remained unreadable.

"Sorry m'am," said Dean slowly, "Won't happen again, I'm just tired,"

Ms. Mein observed her pupil for a few moments before saying, "Are you sure you don't need to go to the nurse's office?"

Dean replied a quick no, and Ms. Mein sighed but moved back up to the front of the glass. Dean looked back down at his maths text book and tried to work through it - though he might as well been trying to achieve the complete eradication of all evil – it wasn't going to happen.

Dean gazed absent mindly at the clock above the blackboard, willing the minutes to just roll by. Fortunately they did and soon the loud chiming of the bell rang through the school. Dean's entire class leapt to their feet, grateful that the weekend was finally there.

As he left the class with another boy called Lucas, he tuned in as the red head animatedly discussed his plans for the approaching Christmas holidays. Dean felt a small burn of jealously as he heard that Lucas was going to some nice big fancy resort in Aspen with his family and everything.

"So, what are you doing?" asked Lucas as Dean packed his bag.

"Dunno," shrugged Dean, "Think Dad's taken us to Blue Earth,"

"Where?"

"It's in Minnesota," said Dean and glancing at the time, he quickly farewelled his friend, walking at a brisk pace to Sam's school. As he walked, a gentle breeze ruffled his short hair cooling his face and only slightly clearing his head. Though as he passed a woman in the street he felt his heart literally break in two. He shook off the feeling and continued on his way.

"DEAN!" cheered Sam, racing towards his brother. As he attempted to stop he slipped but Dean quickly leapt forward and let his little brother's weight fall against his own. Sam straightened up and the brothers resumed their walk home.

"So what homework do you have?" asked Sam.

"Maths, science. You?"

"I have to read a book," shrugged Sam. Dean nodded though he barely took notice as his head once again pounded and he felt a strange desire to dance in the middle of the street…

They reached their apartment block and headed up the three flights of stairs (the elevator was broken) to their small living conditions. Sam immediately pulled off his coat and grabbed his school book and went over to the couch. Dean turned on the television, watching as actors waltzed across the screen.

The next morning as the sun rose above the people of New York, young Samuel Winchester woke up. His dark brown eyes snapped open and he lifted his head from under the warm and cosy doona.

His small feet hit the carpet and without a second thought he trotted off to find his big brother Dean. Like most nine year olds, he rose early in the morning and also he wasn't tall enough to reach the cereal box. Sam walked into the small bedroom that had two single beds. Dean lay on one of them, still fully dressed, mouth slightly open as he snored softly.

Sam's sharp eyes quickly picked up a shotgun in the corner of the room, from where Sam was, he could tell it was loaded and ready to shoot. He eyed it in distaste, hating the fact that his whole life had pretty much been brought up around weapons training.

His stomach suddenly made a short grumbling sound and he ignored the gun and proceeded to Dean. He shook his older brother roughly, saying his name softly. Dean's eyes slowly opened, dull from lack of sleep.

"Wha' da prob' Sammy?" he yawned.

"I'm hungry," said Sam, softly.

"Then get some Lucky Charms," said Dean, turning over.

"Can't reach,"

Dean sighed heavily, and Sam could tell that he was slightly annoyed, but none the less Dean got up and ambled into the tiny kitchenette. Sam followed his big brother out of the bedroom and watched as his brother reached up from his amazing height and got the Lucky Charms.

"You good to go?" asked Dean. Sam nodded and placed the cereal box on the table, and went into the fridge to get milk.

"Dean, do you want the pri – are you okay?" said Sam, looking at Dean. The older boy's dull eyes suddenly had a pained expression. Dean staggered and fell to the ground, gripping his head.

"Dean!" cried out Sam, dropping the cartoon of milk. He darted over to his brother and bent down, unsure on what to do. Dean was shaking, and gasping for air like a fish out of water.

"Dean? What's wrong? Dean?"

"Head…hurts…" whispered Dean. Sam's body filled with panic. He looked around in a state of hopelessness, wondering what to do. He spied the phone, and an idea clicked in his head. He grabbed the phone and his fingers sprawled across the buttons, as he dialled his dad's mobile number. He held the receiver up to his ear and waited.

"C'mon Dad," he said softly – though he knew John was probably out of range.

"_Hi, this is John Wi –"_

"Dad! Dean's sick –"

"_-nchester and I'm sorry to say I can't talk to you right now. Please leave a message and number after the beep and I'll get back to you," _

Sam's face paled and he left a quick message. He then dialled Pastor Jim's number, praying that the pastor would pick up. Sam heard the small click of the phone being picked up on the other end of the line.

"_Hello, this is Pastor Jim spe –"_

"Pastor Jim! Dean's hurt, he's got a real bad –" started Sam at top speed, glancing anxiously at Dean as he spoke.

"_Sam, please slow down, I can't understand you,"_ came Pastor Jim's calm voice through the phone line, _"Now what is the problem? And where is John?"_

"I wanted some breaky but I couldn't get the Lucky Charms so I woke up Dean for help. And then he collapsed. He hasn't fainted but he's really pale and sick,"

"_And you're dad?"_

"I dunno, he went on a hunt in…Winslow,"

"_Okay so where are you?"_

"New York, Blue Star Apartment, Queens, Room 9,"

"_Okay, listen I'll call Caleb, and he'll come, okay. You know the knock?" _

Sam nodded, of course he did, and it was something John drilled into the boys all the time. The knock was for if Bobby or Jim or Caleb had to get to him or Dean when John wasn't around. He said into the phone, "Yes sir,"

"_Good, I'll keep trying to get onto your father. Look after Dean – if he gets really bad please call an ambulance,"_

"Yes sir," said Sam. The phone disconnected and Sam placed it down. He then went and helped Dean up. Once he got Dean onto the couch, he went to get a cool pack. He glanced back, and saw as Dean's face contorted in pain. He grabbed a cool pack, glancing at the clock, wishing that Caleb or even John would hurry up.

* * *

_**Woodstock, Windham, Connecticut**_

Caleb lay on a hotel bed, half asleep. He had just finished a simple salt and burn and he couldn't wait to get back to Lincoln, back to making more weapons for the various hunters that stopped by. Suddenly his phone began to beep. He felt around his jean pockets and soon found the piece of crap he called his phone.

"Hello, Caleb speaking," he said.

"_Caleb, its Jim Murphy,"_ came the Pastor's voice.

"What's the problem?" he said quickly, getting off the bed.

"_Little Sammy Winchester just called me. Dean's not well and John's out of range,"_ said Pastor Jim, _"You're still in Connecticut right?"_

"Yeah, want me to go and look after them?"

"_Yes, I'd go but you'll get there quicker,"_

"Course, where are they?" said Caleb, picking up some pen and paper.

"_Blue Star Hotel, Apartment, New York, Room 9,"_

"Okay, I'll be on the road in ten," said Caleb and he hung up. He began to pack his bags, and then he lugged them onto his back. He paid for his accommodation and then left the hotel. Hopping into his car, he started the engine and quickly drove off to New York.

* * *

_**Winslow, Maine**_

John Winchester sat in his hotel room, researching the recent murders that he believed were connected to the imprint of an angry spirit. Suddenly his phone began to beep and he picked it up. It was Pastor Jim.

As he listened to his old friend, his blood turned to ice, fear evident on his face. The spirit could wait – his sons needed him.

* * *

_**Blue Star Apartment, Queens, New York City, New York**_

Caleb pulled up in front of the cheap hotel. He rocketed out of his car and passed through the empty receptionist and down the dingy hallway that led to the rooms. He quickly found Room 9 and knocked it, with the special knock.

He heard the scraping of locks and then the door cracked open, revealing a small browned eyed boy. The boy's face brightened and Caleb stepped over the think line of salt that had been set and into the room.

"Caleb thank god you're here," said Sam, tugging Caleb into the bedroom, "Dean's not getting better, his headache really hurts,"

Caleb looked into the bedroom, and saw Dean Winchester, curled up in a ball, face white, shaking, muttering things under his breath.

"Dean –?" he began.

"Shut up! Get them out! Get them out!" yelped Dean, green eyes wide with fright.

"Dean, what's wro –"

"GET OUT!" screamed Dean. Caleb went forward to comfort the young hunter but, to his shock, Dean lashed out, striking a painful blow to Caleb's stomach and the kid kept on hitting. Caleb immediately grabbed Dean's wrist and pushed the kid away. Dean backed off and started to calm down, though he had began shaking again. Caleb left the room and as he walked to the kitchen table, Sam looked up at the hunter with wide eyes and said simply Dean had a really bad headache.

Caleb didn't know of any headache that made people react like that and frankly he was worried. Suddenly the apartment door banged open and a worried man with a scruffy beard strolled in.

"Dad!" exclaimed Sam, relieved that finally his dad was here. John nodded in greeting to his youngest and went over to Caleb.

"Did you just get here Caleb?"

"Yep,"

"Do you know –?"

"Nope, but he's got a pretty bad headache according to Sam…"

"But?"

"He kicked me, he was violent," said Caleb in a low hushed voice so Sam couldn't hear. John frowned and approached his eldest's room. Caleb heard a short discussion exchange between the father and son that was inaudible to him. John came out and said in low voice, "I think we need to get Dean to a doctor."

* * *

_**3 Days Later, X-Mansion, Salem Centre, New York**_

Charles Xavier sat in his office in his school for mutant teenagers and watched as Scott Summers left his room, after a lengthy discussion. The telepathic mutant couldn't understand why the young teenager kept on pulling dangerous and somewhat perverted pranks on the student body. Sure he could read minds, but still just because he knew why but he didn't…well you get the point…

Charles really felt for him, after all he knew the frustration that leaked from the boy's mind because of his inability to control the red optical blasts. Charles had hoped the last three months at the X-Mansion would help improve the sixteen year olds' attitude, but so far it had only worsened. Oh, what was he going to do?

He rubbed his temple but then smiled, as he felt a familiar presence enter his mind. He looked up as a tall man, in an expensive black suit entered the room. This man's name was Erik Lensherr.

"And to what do I owe the pleasure Erik?"

"Surely you know," chuckled Erik, "Summers up to no good again?"

"Yes, unfortunately," said Charles, softly. Erik nodded in sympathy and then said, "Bobby da Costa has run off campus again, something about seeing his 'girlfriend',"

"What?"

"So I'm thinking it would be a perfect time to use Cerebro, since I am unable to locate him," shrugged Erik. Charles nodded and then got out of his seat, and then he and Erik went down stairs to the lower levels where the students were forbidden to go. They walked along the plain white corridors to a locked door that led into Cerebro.

As they walked down the white sterile hallway, Charles felt a little dig of excitement. He liked using the Cerebro; the sense of being able to connect with the world was very powerful and spiritual, though he did feel sorry that Erik could never experience such a feeling.

He strolled into the large circular completely metal room; and along the platform to a small stand that held a helmet. He lifted the helmet onto his head and activated Cerebro. Suddenly the room darkened, and Charles connected to what seemed like the entire universe.

He located Bobby a.k.a Sunspot without too much trouble in the company with a teenage human girl. But something drew his attention away from his solar absorbing student; a young mutant that appeared to be in New York City. He could feel the distress and distraught of the young teenager, that the boy's gifts had just emerged.

He took off the silver helmet, blue eyes grave and said to Erik, "We have a more serious problem then Mr. da Costa's love life."

* * *

_**New York General Hospital, New York City, New York**_

Erik Lehnsherr and Charles Xavier sat in the front of a luxury black car outside the NY General Hospital. Both men were dressed in smart suits and had barely moved since they had arrived. They watched as various members of the public left and entered, not a word spoken between them. Finally Erik broke the silence.

"Are we going to go in? Or should I just go to a pub in the meantime?"

"Surely you're too old for a pub?" jibed Charles.

"No older than you," snapped back Erik. Charles shrugged and then opened the car door. The two men got out and approached the hospital, the moonlight casting a strange light on their faces. They entered the large foyer which was full, and went up to the receptionist. They stood in line for about a minute listing to the various queries people were making. Finally they reached the top of the queue. Erik watched as Charles worked his magic on the pretty blonde receptionist, in a smooth controlled voice. Erik envied his friend, wishing that he had those abilities.

"Can you please tell me which room Dean Winchester is in?"

The blonde receptionist looked through her papers and said, "Level 2, room 204,"

"Thank you," said Charles. Erik and Charles went to the lift and went up to the second level. As they went out, they saw a tall man with dark brown hair and serious brown eyes arguing to a doctor.

"What do you mean?" said the man.

"We have reason to believe that your son may have a psychological problem," said the doctor, "I'm sure you've noticed that Dean seems to mentally collapse at the presence of others – excluding Samuel,"

Erik and Charles quickly absorbed this information, though Erik could have laughed at the ignorance of the doctor. But he decided that this was neither the place nor time. Erik knew that the man must be Dean Winchester's father, and as they passed him and the doctor, the doctor said instantly, "Let's continue this discussion downstairs,"

Erik knew that Charles was tapping into his power again, and he didn't blame him. After all how awkward would it be if the father walked in on two strangers talking to his son? He'd probably call the cops and get them arrested.

"Of course," said Mr. Winchester, and as Erik turned his head back, he noticed that Mr. Winchester's eyes had a glazed look to them.

Once the hallway was clear Erik and Charles, went to the outside of room 201. As the entered the darkened room, Erik's sharp eyes picked up a boy on the bed, hugging his knees and another on a recliner beside the bed, fast asleep. The boy on the bed seemed to be muttering various Latin phrases under his breath, his eyes closed, breath rushed. He was cold, Erik could instantly tell, his whole body seemed to shake and shiver, as the fan above went around and around, emitting a soft humming noise as it did. Erik eyed it in annoyance and with a single flick of his wrist the metal blades stopped as well as the motor. The boy glanced up, green eyes wide and fierce.

"Who the hell are you?" he said instantly in an assertive voice.

"I am Charles Xavier and this is Mr. Lensherr, Dean," said Charles calmly. Dean looked confused as Charles said those names, they meant nothing to him, so were they _Child Services_…his body tensed and his green eyes turned to a harsh glare.

"What the hell are you doing here?" said Dean forcefully, and then he groaned, closing his eyes.

"Dean, I am here to help,"

"I don't need any help, my dad has never –"

"Huh?" said Erik before he could stop himself. Dean eyed them both and said in a soft voice, that in some ways shocked Erik after the attitude he had showed before, "So you're not from Child Services,"

_Child Services! _Why in the devil would the boy be thinking about that? Unless…Erik thought back to the boy's father in the hall, the rough steely look he had about him, certainly not the look you expected from a father with young sons.

"No Dean, we are not from Child Services," said Charles in a calm voice, and Erik could only wonder what the telepath had gleamed from the teenager's mind. Judging by his friend's slight expression it wasn't too his liking.

"Then where are you from? Who sent you?" said Dean, his voice rising, fist clenched in a small ball.

"I am a Headmaster of a school," the boy looked very perplexed at those words, "for people with gifts and I would like you to attend,"

"What?" said Dean in an off hand voice, his mind racing as a million possible idea's jumped into his head on how he came into the interest of this guy after living under the radar for most of his life.

"To put it simply, a school for mutants"

"You have got to be kidding me…" muttered Dean sarcastically, as he tried to hide his shock but Erik could tell the boy knew that had to be it. His face was like an open book at that moment. Dean's eyes were wide but he quickly narrowed them and said, "So you're saying I'm a freak then,"

"A freak, my dear boy?" said Erik in a low dangerous voice.

"Yeah, what's it to you? Bet you're one too?"

"Why don't you –"

"Erik," said Charles sharply, "Dean, please just calm down, just listen,"

"Why should I?" said Dean. He stood up, fists clenched, but he began to wobble and he had to grip the bed for support. Under his breath, Erik could hear him muttering, _"Get them outta my head…please God,"_ his face contorted in pain, as Erik could only imagine, the boy felt the soft whispers of other's emotions.

Charles sighed and took two brief steps over to Dean and held the boy's weight against his own. He coaxed Dean's still light frame onto the bed and whispered words to calm the boy. Dean struggled against the elder mutant but Charles surprisingly strong grip kept him in place.

"Dean, please calm down," commanded Charles in a soft voice. Green eyes stared back into blue eyes, unable to look away. The boy's body seem to slacken under the powerful gaze, and his breathing slowed, his face calm.

"I don't get it…" mumbled Dean softly, his voice breaking as he said those four simple words, that teenagers all over the world say every single day. He felt no denial, the denial he wanted to feel to the revelation but he couldn't…this wasn't natural and he was sure he wasn't possessed, so that had to be the reason he was feeling like a magnet for emotions recently.

"I know this is a confusing time, but this is way I'm here, my school can help you Dean, help you learn to control your gift," said Charles slowly, "You're not alone in this,"

Dean glanced at Charles, mouth opened slightly, as he contemplated his decision. A decision, that would in no doubt change Dean Winchester's life, forever. Dean's expression had become unreadable, and Erik thought they had him, when he shook his head mutely.

"I have to protect Sammy, it's my job," said Dean, stealing a glance at the small boy that lay asleep. Erik took a long hard look at the kid, who was possibly only nine or eight. He looked so innocent, with the curly brown bangs hanging over his chubby little face. Erik continued to look at the boy; he began to feel a strange forbidding about him, as if the child wasn't as innocent as he looked, but in fact dangerous.

Erik surveyed Dean's eyes and saw an over protectiveness that only a big brother could have. It seemed to Erik, that Dean would even risk his life for his little brother's safety.

"I understand," said Charles with a small nod, 'But just in case –"

Charles placed a smooth hand on Dean's forehand, and the boy watched mesmerised, unable to move. Erik watched as his friend concentrated on his objective, his face still. After a minute crawled by, the telepath withdrew his hands.

"What did you do?" asked Dean, in wonder, his head feeling clear and no longer muddled.

"I placed a mind block – something to keep your powers in check," explained Charles.

"So I won't…?"

"No, you will always be able to know how people feel – I can't get rid of that, it is who you are, but this will suppress it so it's more bearable,"

Dean nodded a silent thanks. Erik was disappointed about what Charles had done. He didn't like the idea of suppressing powers; in fact it was pretty much denying the potential that had to come with them.

"_Shut up Erik, you knew why I did it,"_ whispered Charles in his mind. Erik sighed and the two mutants bade goodnight to Dean and turned to leave. Just before they left, Charles pulled out a small card and floated it over to Dean with telekinesis. The teenager caught it, slightly shocked.

"Just in case you ever need help, that'll contact me directly," explained Charles before leaving and then without another word, he left with Erik close behind him. They passed Mr. Winchester in the hospital foyer, and Erik wondered if Dean would tell his father of the events that had transpired. He doubted he would.

Erik and Charles wandered out into the night and towards their car a softly spoken conversation taken place.

"Well that was interesting,"

"Mmmmhhhh…"

"Charles, did you by any chance -?"

"Receive a strange vibe off Dean's little brother?" said Charles instantly, reading his friend's mind, "Yes, I did. I have a feeling that there is more to come from the Winchesters, a lot more."

* * *

**Author's Notes:** This story can be considered a Season 3 A.U. as it picks up after the events as _All Hell Breaks Lose Part 2_. For X-men movie verse this picks up after _X2_.


	2. To Trick the Devil

**Summary: **X-Men xover. The Winchesters always knew they were freaks; hunting does that to a man. But what if their oddities didn't stop there? What if they were 'supernaturally' evolved? Post X2 & AHBL2.

**Authors Notes:** This section takes place after AHBL2.

**Disclaimer:** Well last time I checked I still don't own them, boy does that suck? So have no fear Supernatural and X-Men won't be mangled since I can't legally get my hands on them, not that I'd mangle them…

**Chapter One: To Trick the Devil**

_I will. And because I'm such a saint, I'll give you one year. And one year only. But here's the thing. If you try and welch or weasel your way out, then the deal is off. Sam drops dead. He's back to rotten meat in no time. So...it's a better deal than your dad ever got. What do you say?_

_- Crossroads Demon_

Three and a half weeks had passed since Hell's gates had literally opened and yet the sky hadn't turned black, humanity wasn't destroyed, and the Apocalypse seemed like a myth. Sam and Dean Winchester didn't like it.

Why weren't the demons attacking? Shouldn't they be? After all hadn't Hells Gates had literally opened and spewed out its demonic insides, so what was with the happy apple pie life the entire world was still living? Dean hated it, it put him on edge, what were their demonic enemies planning? And if they were; when? Could they stop it or had he and his brother doomed the entire earth to eternal damnation?

Personally Dean would prefer just to start exorcising the whole lot of them but without a trace of where they were except for the clues of black clouds circling around over seventeen cities which was just so bloody helpful. Just made it all so easy…

Still Dean couldn't deny he hadn't had a bit of fun during the week, whilst Bobby worked on the Colt and Sam…well it didn't seem to matter how many times Dean told his brother to stop trying, the only thought on his mind was saving his big brother. As Dean flirted with girl after girl, Sam sat in the Impala, calling various hunters, researching and reading through their dad's journal over and over again.

It was obvious Sam was starting to crack, in more ways then emotionally. As the days had gone by Dean had noticed in times of exhaustion or frustration the air would grow thick and heavy and small objects like pens and papers would begin to move on their own accord. They didn't talk about it; both trying to deny Sam had any connection to the demon still, but they both knew it was pointless.

As the days passed Dean found himself worrying more and more about Sam, even more so then before. Sam was distant and not his usual well chick-flick self. He just spent hours trying to break the deal, barely eating unless Dean forced him to.

Eventually though, as the Winchesters were driving (in Bobby's pickup truck) to the remains of the Roadhouse with supplies from Bobby - since Ellen was trying to rebuild – Sam cracked the silence and said in a disgruntled tone, "This is bloody pointless!"

"What is Sammy?" asked Dean casually.

Sam threw his brother a long hard dirty look and said viscously, "You! This Deal! Seriously Dean, why the hell did you do it? Why?"

"Sam I can't and will not live without you," said Dean softly, but it was more then that ever since the incident with the Shrtigia when they were kids, he'd made a silent promise to himself to never let down Sam again and he wasn't going to start now.

"And how do you think I feel? Did you ever stop and think of that?"

"Sam this is no time to go all chick –"

"Oh and that act!" fumed Sam, "Just stop it, I know you're scared to hell, so stop the tough guy act because it isn't working," he ran his hands through his hair, practically yanking it out, "Why do you always have to go and play bloody –"

Dean stopped the truck without warning. He turned to face Sam, face deadly serious, "Sam, listen to me now – do not try and save me – if you do, you drop dead, the deal is off, get it?"

"What?" said Sam in barely a whisper. His brown eyes stared straight into green eyes. Dean felt his heart skip a beat, and strange whispering filled his head, a whispering that he hadn't heard…

He blinked; breaking the brief connection he shared with his little brother, and started up the Impala. As he drove, his pondered what he had just felt? He had felt Sam's pain - he knew that - but he knew his brother was hurting so why had he actually felt it? Didn't he feel guilty enough? What hell was God playing at? Toying with him just that little bit longer.

Dean wanted to blame it all on God, if it weren't for the fact there was a deep nagging in the pit of his stomach. It was as if a great big heavy stomach lay in the bottom of his stomach, weighing him down, knotting his insides together. His mind drifted to when he first met them…

"_What did you do?"_ he had asked.

"_I placed a mind block – something to keep your powers in check,"_ Charles Xavier had said

"_So I won't…?"_

"_No, you will always be able to know how people feel – I can't get rid of that, it is who you are, but this will suppress it so it's more bearable,"_

But it couldn't be breaking now? After all these years, could it? No way, that guy had blocked it, had made sure that it wouldn't come back… but if it had, why now? Why did it have to be now when he had an angst ridden person sitting next to him? Didn't he feel guilty enough?

Dean sighed and gave himself a little shake, he was just being an idiot…it wasn't coming back, after all he had been living with Sam – well since forever so of course he was in tune with how his brother felt. It had nothing to do with the incident, nothing at all.

Slowly but surely the truck came across the site of where the Roadhouse used to stand but was now a mere pile of burnt wood and bricks. Dean stopped the car and he and Sam both got out, and began unloading the truck. Ellen came out to meet them, her hair tied up in a messy bun, face weary.

"Thank god you're here," she said, "Is that all the stuff?"

"Yeah," said Sam. Ellen nodded and began helping the Winchesters. Dean looked around at the surroundings, then to Ellen, and felt a sudden ache in his heart. Sadness and a sense of hopelessness seemed to envelope him. He knew this was what Ellen was feeling, and who could blame her? She had lost her home, her friends and the only reason she survived was because of pretzels! And now she had to try and rebuild it all, with the help of the insurance company as well, but it still wouldn't replace the hunters that had died in the blaze or even the police inquiry that had followed.

"Dean?" came Ellen's voice, "Are you okay?"

Dean nodded and continued to unpack the truck, one thought swirling in his mind. It had broken he knew it, but how? He offered a weak smile as Ellen kept on staring suspiciously at him and picked up the supplies and wandered over to the van where Ellen was currently living.

"So does Jo know about all this?" asked Sam as the three hunters walked.

"Yeah, called her, she said she'll be coming down,"

"Has she heard anything about demons?" piped in Dean, pushing his thoughts aside.

"Nope, same as us, though once we get this place up again then hopefully we can start organising some general plan to take down these bitches,"

"Not that we'd be that popular," smirked Dean, stealing a glance at Sam. Sam, however, just shrugged it off.

"Well that's true, I think it would be wise for you boys to stay away from other hunters at the moment – that's Bobby included,"

"And what about you? Aren't you sharing the blame or did you just pass it off on us?" piped in Sam.

"I take full responsibilities for my actions Samuel Winchester," said Ellen as the left the stuff by the van door, "But let's face it, if any hunter dug deep enough into this whole mess – which they will I might add – then they are going to connect the dots. It's highly likely that they'll think I betrayed them all, but at the same time it's more likely they're going to think you're the Antichrist or some bull shit like that,"

"So we're screwed," concluded Dean, "Well, it's not like we didn't know that already,"

"Yes," shrugged Ellen, "But that's what happens when you enter our world,"

"Touché," said Sam, he glanced at his watch, "Well we'll be heading off,"

"See you around, don't be a stranger,"

"We won't," replied Dean throwing a warm smile. The two brothers walked swiftly back to the truck and got in, leaving Ellen alone to wait for the builders that would help restore her beloved Roadhouse.

"Dean?" piped up Sam over the soft blur of music that emitted from the radio.

"Yeah,"

"Are you okay?"

"Peachy," shrugged Dean, though he shifted uncomfortably as he felt his brother's piercing brown eyes staring at him. He wasn't going to tell Sam that he was well…a freak! There was no point in worrying his little brother anymore. Besides he still had that card didn't he? Just one call and he'd get enough one of those mind blocks and boom back to hunting evil sons of bitches (if they ever came out of hiding that is). Just one call…

* * *

_**X-Mansion, Salem Centre, New York**_

Scott Summers stood on the balcony of the X-Mansion, watching as the sun dived down into the earth, bringing on an eternal blackness called night. His hair was messy and unkempt, and stubble covering his usually clean-shaven face. Under his sunglasses his eyes were bloodshot.

It hadn't been a good three weeks. Every night he awoke from traumatic cryptic nightmares that now even plagued him in his waking hours. Sleep now seemed like a distant dream, one which was always thwarted by the image of his lover, Jean.

Jean had been the perfect girl; powerful, smart, friendly, and more importantly his girl. It tore Scott in so many different ways that she was gone, crushed under a ton of water as she saved him and the other mutants at Alkali Lake. It wasn't fair…just when he had found happiness it had all gone away like a piece of paper washing down the drain.

As his gaze averted to his scruffy shoes, he slipped into deep thought. He stood there, a gentle breeze ruffling his hair, eyes closed, and the gentle sounds of the students laughing in the grounds below.

His hands clenched into tight little balls as an old memory stirred within him. It hadn't been too long ago that he had proposed to her. He could still remember her, tall, red headed, proud, wearing a pretty white dress. The air had smelt of roses and they had been alone, and it had been as if time had stood still for a moment…

"_I love you Scott,"_ whispered her voice.

"_Jean, I love you too, so,"_ and then he had bent down, produced that little black box that contained a beautiful diamond ring, a ring that he had spent hours trying to pick out with Charles' help. Then he had said those magic words, spoken as clearly as the moon in the sky on a cloudless night, _"Will you, Jean Grey, marry me?"_

"_Yes,"_ and suddenly a strange cold wind blew, whispers of his deceased partner echoed in his subconscious. He opened his eyes and blinked suddenly and the memory faded as did the voices.

"Jean," his hoarse voice murmured under his breath, "I will always love you…"

"_And I you…"_

Once again the echoes filled his head, it was if he couldn't escape them. A dark shadow seemed to cast over him, consuming him in utter darkness…it was like his dreams and soon – yes! There she stood, red hair streaming back, that wild look in her emerald green eyes. She opened her mouth to speak –

A dull rumble could be heard suddenly. The illusion vanished and Scott was left standing once more in the dying sunlight. He grinded his teeth in annoyance. Just like his dreams, when ever he got close to her, he would be pulled awake. And this time it was because some one was using his motorbike…

"Logan."

That one name was enough to make Scott want to rip apart the entire world. Every bloody time Logan came to visit he stole yet another item of his and right now Scott was in no mood to deal with Logan's sarcastic nature. He didn't understand why Charles even let him stay. He never did anything useful.

He wandered into Mansion and went to the entrance hall overlooking it from the mezzanine. The front doors opened and Logan strode in. A small smile flew onto Scott's lips as he realised the adamantium covered mutant still hadn't grown.

He strolled down the stairs towards Logan and said, "Did you fill up the tank?"

Logan stared at Scott for a second as if kind of shocked at his appearance and then shrugged, "Yeah," and he threw the keys at Scott, who caught them on reflex. Logan walked towards Scott and said in a low voice, "Are you okay? Listen I know Jean's –"

"I don't want to talk about it," said Scott in bated breath, "Just go, Logan, like you always do,"

Logan sighed and Scott felt his fury spike. He narrowed his eyes and felt his cheeks grow warm. Adrenaline surged through him. He could feel the artery along his temple pulse in time to his rapid pulse. He took several deep breaths, one thought echoing in his mind - he needed to calm down. It wasn't Logan's fault Jean was dead…he was just trying to help?

"Listen, sorry, I just…" muttered Scott and he turned and left, heading to his room. He could feel Logan's eyes boring into his back as he walked.

Scott went into his room, and lay down on his bed, sighing deeply for a while. His eyelids began to grow heavy and his breath slowed. His body began to sink into the mattress, his face unemotional and in the dim a whisper sounded.

"_Scott,"_

* * *

_**Singer's Auto Salvage Yard, South Dakota**_

Bobby Singer sat in his house, tinkering with the Colt.

His hand's slid over the ancient gun, trying to discover its, one thought swirling in his mind, what makes it tick? How can I make it tick?

He could hear Sam and Dean in the other room, cleaning the other weapons they had. Both boys were silent, except for the odd comment from Dean. Bobby enjoyed the silence as it didn't distract him from his work, but now he found it unnerving. Those two were never that silent, in all Bobby's years he'd never heard such a stony silence between them. Sure they weren't chatter boxes, but this silence was strange.

He shook the thought from his mind and glanced at the time. It was nearly six, maybe time to make some dinner. He ambled into the kitchen, when something clicked in his mind. His eyes flashed, a smile grew and he turned his attention to the Colt.

He quickly went towards it and picked it up, taking a long hard stare. His hands then seemed to act on instinct and after five minutes, his eyes gleamed like a teenager getting his first car.

"Sam? Dean?" he called,

"What?"

"I think I might have figured out our problems,"

* * *

_**X-Mansion, Salem Centre, New York**_

Scott lumbered out of his room and practically raced down the stairs. His body was full of adrenaline, his heart hammering in his chest. He could hear Ororo Munroe's voice calling him but he ignored her.

He moved quickly into the garage, and saw his motorbike sitting in all it's glory (though extremely dusty). His hand ran over the new leather seats, and his heart leapt as he experienced a fleeting memory of riding through the countryside with Jean.

"_Faster!"_ she had cried in his ear. He had gunned the engine and it was if they were flying, a blur of green and brown flashing past them, and the cool air rushing past their faces.

"Scott?"

Scott blinked, and pulled himself from his memories. He turned and cocked his head to see Charles Xavier rolling towards him in his state of the art wheelchair.

"Yes Professor?"

"Scott, I know you –" but Scott cut him off with a wave of his hand.

"I know what I have to do, don't stop me," and without another thought he swung onto the bike, opened the garage door and sped off into the night, one thought burning in his mind, Jean.

* * *

_**Crossroads, South Dakota**_

He had left Bobby's house only thirty minutes ago and had driven at high speeds from there to an intersection covered in gravel and surrounded by a plant called Yarrow. The car's engine cut and Sam Winchester got out.

He walked to the centre of the crossroads in his hands a little tin box, containing some bones, and now a fake ID of Sam. He bent down and his hands scrapped against the dirt, until a small hole appeared.

Pushing the box into the earth, he scraped the tiny little rocks back over and rose. He reached into the back of his jeans, and felt a smooth metal gun there. He pulled it out and looked over it, praying that it would work, praying that the Colt was enough to save Dean.

The air was silent and still, his anticipation intense, as he waited for her to arrive. The wind blew a gentle breeze which was a nice reward from the sickly humidity of the night. The stars weren't out, but hidden a under a thick layer of clouds, and he waited. One minute, two minutes, three minutes…and then she appeared.

A tight fitting black dress wrapped around a young woman who had lone ebony black locks and pale green eyes. Her face was small, with a small pointed chin and her lips full and luscious. If Sam had seen her in the street he would have assumed her a college girl looking for a good night out, but he knew that wasn't the case.

She opened her mouth and out came a sweet innocent voice, "Well little Sammy Winchester, I'm touched," she paused to take him in, "I mean your brother has been to see me twice, but you?" her mouth widened into a little smirk, "I never had the pleasure - what can I do for you Sam?"

Sam cocked the Colt and held it out, pointing it straight at her head, "You can beg for your life, bitch,"

"We were having such a nice conversation," she said eyeing the Colt in annoyance, "then you had to go and ruin the mood,"

Sam's heart skipped an extra beat, adrenaline swelled in his body and his soft brown eyes became a steely grey, "If I were you I would drop the wisecracks and start acting scared," he said roughly.

"It's not my style," shrugged the Demon, examining the Colt for a moment, "Not the original Colt I see, so I think I'm entitled to ask, where did you get that?"

_Like hell I'm going to tell you that,_ thought Sam, never dropping his guard for a moment as she began to circle him.

"Let me guess? Bobby Singer?" she said smiling, "He always was a pain in the ass, the little exorcist – though he'll get what's coming to him, just like the rest of you hunters,"

Sam flinched slightly…what the hell were the demons planning? But one look in her eyes, told Sam, that she knew he was scared. He gritted his teeth, and spat out, "That's enough, I came here to make an offer,"

"You're going to make me an offer? That's just adorable Sammy," chortled the Demon. Sam's temper flared at those words. Who the hell did she think she was? To be treating him like a little kid.

"It's Sam," he said softly, narrowing his eyes, "And you can let Dean out of his deal right now, he lives, I live, you live and everyone goes home happy or," he cocked the Colt and pointed it straight at her head, "you stop breathing, permanently,"

"Oh, all this tough talk," her eyes sparkled in amusement, "I have to tell you it's not very convincing, I mean c'mon Sam, are you sure you even want to break the deal?"

_Well, yes, idiot, why the hell do you think I'm out here threatening to kill you? For kicks? Sam_ thought in annoyance but he replied in a rhetorical question, "What do you think?"

She walked around him and paused, turning to face him with an evil twinkle in her fiery red eyes. She opened her mouth pausing for a second as if thinking what to say and replied, "I dunno, aren't you tired of cleaning up Dean's messes? Of dealing with that broken psyche of his? Aren't you tired of being bossed around like a snotty nosed little brother? You're stronger than Dean, you're better than him,"

As she spoke each word it dug deep into Sam. He found himself doubting himself, did he really want to leave Dean? After all since they were kids he was always the one getting Dean out of trouble and even now when they hunter if it wasn't for him Dean probably would have been a dead man. He was stronger…why else had the yellow eyed demon picked him as his favourite?

"_You're my favourite Sammy,"_

"_I'll get to you in a minute, champ. But I'm proud of you – knew you had it in you,"_

The Yellow eyed Demon's words whispered in his mind, as he doubted. But then as a soft swift wind blew, Sam mentally kicked himself, he did care about Dean, he didn't care what any demon had to say. All that mattered was saving his brother! Nothing more, and nothing less.

"Watch your mouth," he said icily. At his word's the Crossroads Demon seemed even more entertained, then before, her eyes brightening.

"Admit it, you're here going through the motions, but the truth is you'll be a tiny bit relieved when he's gone,"

"Shut up!"

She continued, "No more desperate, sloppy needy Dean. You can finally be free!" she finished egging him on. Sam's mood darkened, his face bent in silent fury.

"I said shut up!"

"Ha," she laughed softly, "That is just so precious Sammy,"

"Okay cut the crap," said Sam harshly. "You let Dean out of his deal right now,"

"Sorry sweetheart," she said, pity weaving in between her words, "You're brother is an adult, he made that deal of his own free will, fair and square," she shrugged, "It's iron clad."

"Every deal can be broken,"

"Not this one," she said quietly, "little prince,"

Sam frowned slightly at those words…_little prince_? What the hell did that mean? He figured he'd work it out later and spoke bravely, "Fine then I'll kill you, then you're gone and so is the deal,"

"Guess again?" she said smirking slightly at the ignorance of his words.

"What?"

"Sam, I'm just a sales woman," explained the Demon, flipping back her hair, "I've got a boss like everybody else. He holds the contract not me. He wants Dean's soul bad and he's not going to let it go,"

"You're bluffing," Sam said, praying that she was but he knew deep down she wasn't. Her attitude told him that much.

"No Sam," she brushed off and continued to say, "But you can shoot me if you want, not that would do any good, the deal still holds, and when Dean's time is up he's going to be dragged into the pit,"

She had spoken truthfully and if that was the case then he'd have to try a different tack to save Dean, "Then who is your boss? Who holds the contracts?"

"He's not as cuddly as me, I can tell you that," she smiled moving towards Sam, eyeing him closely. Sam had the feeling she was mentally undressing him – which was sick in so many different ways it wasn't funny. He moved back and muttered the words, "Who is it?"

"I can't tell you, I'm sorry Sam there is no way out of this one, not this time," the pity was back, coating her voice but then her tone changed, slightly nastier, "Sucks to be you doesn't it?"

Sam smiled and nodded, and shot. A tiny little bullet whizzed through the air and hit her dead in the forehead. Her expression was shocked and the she gasped, and collapsed.

"But it sucks to be you even more," said Sam softly. He turned and walked back to the car her had taken from Bobby's, flicked his gaze back to the dead woman that now lay in the middle of the Crossroad, and after a second thought, "Bitch,"


	3. A Whole New Theory

**Disclaimer: **I still don't own them...funny about that, eh?

* * *

**Chapter Two: A Whole New Theory**

The next day, the Winchesters were packed up and heading to a small town called Forks in Washington to deal with a haunting. The air was crisp, and cool, which was strange for summer, when normally a heavy blanket of humidity would hang in the air.

They had started out an hour ago, and neither of them had spoken since leaving Bobby's place. Abruptly the Impala braked and Dean cleared his throat and said, "So, Sammy do you have something to tell me?"

A large stone dropped in Sam's stomach. He knew Dean would notice a bullet missing, but he had hoped it wouldn't happen this quickly. He swallowed and shrugged, adopting a slow drawl, "It's not your birthday?"

"No,"

"Happy...seriously dude, I don't know." He paused, as Dean continued to stare hard at him, "I have no idea what you're talking –"

"There's a bullet missing from the Colt." said Dean sharply, his voice shaking in annoyance, "You want to tell me how that happened?" a long pause and then Dean continued in a sarcastic tone, "Because I know it wasn't me or Bobby since he isn't a complete and utter idiot. So that leaves one option...you went after her didn't you?"

Sam considered lying but he knew it was useless, Dean had figured it out. He sighed; he could never lie to his brother well. He shrugged, "Yeah well..."

"You could have gotten yourself killed!" lectured Dean.

Sam's eyes narrowed in annoyance, his jaw clenching slightly, his cheeks flushed slightly. Didn't Dean think he was more than capable to handle one demon? He wasn't a little kid anymore. He rolled his eyes and spat out, "I didn't,"

"And you shot her," continued Dean, his green eyes meeting Sam's. Sam, remained silent for a moment and replied stubbornly, "She was being a smartass,"

"So what?" said Dean indigently, he paused, a faint trail of hope apparent in his voice, "Does that mean I'm out of my deal?"

"Don't you think I might have mentioned that little fact, Dean?" snapped back Sam in vexation. He needed to calm down. Drawing in a deep breath he added, "No, someone else holds the contract,"

"Who?"

"She wouldn't say," said Sam, softly knowing what was coming next; as Dean rolled his eyes.

"Well, we should find out who..." Dean paused before saying bitterly, "of course, our best lead would be the Crossroads Demon! Oh, wait a minute..."

"That's not funny," muttered Sam, his stomach twisting uncomfortably.

"No it's not! It was a stupid freaking risk, and you shouldn't have done it,"

_Shouldn't_ have done it? If Dean hadn't gone and sold his soul in the first place, he wouldn't have! But no Dean, – had to be the hero...just had to be, whilst anything remotely dangerous that he did was considered stupid! Sam closed his eyes, breathing in slowly, his heart rate going up as adrenaline surged through his body. He opened his eyes and said hotly, "I shouldn't have done it? You're my brother, Dean. And no matter what you do, I'm gonna try and save you, so I'm sure as hell not gonna apologise for it, all right?"

Dean opened his mouth to respond but quickly closed it. He gunned the engine and soon the Impala was sailing down the highway again.

* * *

_**Alkali Lake**_

Jenny Macrow ran along the sandy banks, hair streaming behind her – her boyfriend Greg not far behind her. She stopped, allowing Greg to catch up. Soon the couple were locked in a tight embrace. Jenny pushed away and stood, back towards the lake, laughing.

"And I thought you said we wouldn't have fun camping!"

"Well I –"

Jenny frowned as Greg froze, eyes widening, body shaking. She suddenly felt something wet drop on her shoulder. She turned and screamed. There stood a drenched woman, eyes gleaming, red hair streaming back...

* * *

_**Forks, Washington**_

Sam sat on the bar stool, a beer in his hand, eyes still. Dean was by the pool table, hustling pool at an extraordinary rate. Laughter filled the air, as did the smell of alcohol, the lights casting an orange ambience over the room.

He glanced over at his brother for a moment and watched as he pocketed yet another hundred. He had thought of going over and help Dean bring in the dough but he really didn't want anything to do with him right now. Sam knew it was stupid – at a time like this, when over a hundred demons were loose over the world to be fighting with each other. Sam wanted to trust Dean – but how could he? When his own brother didn't have enough respect to acknowledge Sam's decisions.

Suddenly he noticed the girl sitting a few stools away from him in an argument with a large beefy man. One look at him, told Sam the guy was drunk and could probably crack a few ribs if enraged.

Sam sighed, checked his watch, and got up. He sauntered over to the girl and said in a harsh tone, "I think she told you _'no'_," and the whole bar seemed to pause, holding their breaths.

"And what are you going to do tough guy?" sneered the man, and he pushed Sam roughly aside. Sam staggered and the man continued to advance on the woman.

"I said back _off_," spat out Sam viciously, eyes narrowed, cheeks starting to flush, head rate speeding up. His hands were balled at his side. He sucked a breath in and then released it, and with that little bit of motion the man was suddenly thrown back into the wall.

"What the hell -?" yelled the man's friend. A strong hand grabbed Sam's arm from behind, and Dean whispered franticly, "We have to go,"

Sam nodded and the two began to back towards the door. Occupants of the pub had started to close in on them determined not to let them leave the premises, though at the same time keeping a wary glance at Sam.

"Stay where you are," snarled a tall man sporting a baseball cap, grabbing a beer bottle as a weapon. Sam desperately wished he could call upon his power again but he knew it was pretty much pointless. He was never going to be like Ava or Andy or even Jake, or even remotely skilled in his abilities.

"Yeah, you god damn freaks!" yelled a muscular red headed woman, who was immediately backed up by the crowd. Maybe it was the fear and uncertainty in Sam's eyes that told the crowd that he wasn't going to be pulling off another stunt; that drove the crowd closer, like a horse sensing a weak rider and the chance to eat grass during a ride.

"Listen," spoke up Dean, "There has just been a really big misunderstanding, okay?"

Instantly Sam knew something was different with his brother. All of his life Sam had known his brother had this amazing effect on women to – calm them down and so on, and all Sam's life he'd just taken it as a fact that Dean was a modern day Casanova, gifted by the gods in scoring more one night stands and heartbroken women then any man alive. But those few words had calmed down the crowd...made them second guess what they were doing. It was odd, because no one should have the ability to calm down an angry mob.

As the crowd seem to freeze in the moment, Dean tugged at his brother's shirt and soon enough the two Winchesters were outta there. They flew into the Impala, and were soon off, people spewing out of the bar behind them once again wanting blood, as if a spell had been broken.

"Well at least we didn't already pay for a hotel," joked Dean, trying to cover up his quavering voice.

"Yeah..." mumbled Sam, leaning against the car window. What was happening? What the _hell _was going on?

* * *

_**On the Road, FBI SUV**_

Special Agent Victor Henrikson hated the Winchesters, no he despised them. For the past year he'd been trying to hunt them down and bring justice – but he might as well been trying to make Lemonade with apples. He could just picture them laughing as they sat in that beautiful car of theirs...

He sighed and continued driving down the highway – his partner Reid sitting next to him talking on his mobile. Reid hung up and Henrikson quickly said, "So what's the story?"

"They entered a bar – Dean was hustling pool, whilst Sam was just drinking. Apparently a Mr. Marcus Reynolds started hassling Ms. Britney Eames, and Sam stepped in to stop it," Reid stopped for a moment, throwing a scared look at Henrikson, not sure if he should continue or not.

"Then what?" grunted Henrikson.

"Sam got mad and then Reynolds went into the wall," said Reid quickly, his eyes averting Henrikson's gaze. Henrikson raised an eyebrow and said shortly, "He bashed the guy?"

"Well no – he did it with his...ummm...abilities...mind..."

"Huh? Are you saying..." said Henrikson slowly, his mind processing what he had just heard. The seconds past as the agent's mind clicked like clockwork, pulling together all the information the FBI had on the Winchester's. He froze as the realization hit him – his eyes barely concentrating on the road in front of him, "Hell no, he's a mutant!"

"Appears that way Henrikson,"

"God damn it!" swore Henrikson, teeth grinding together, "And Dean?"

"Apparently the boys only managed to escape when the crowd calmed down."

"What?"

"One of the officers there, said a victim explained it as being put into a slight trance – she knew she wanted to stop those two but couldn't, like someone was telling her not too,"

So Sam had telekinesis and Dean had some dodgy Jedi mind trick thing, oh how he hated dealing with mutants; they were so...unpredictable and dangerous – which in the end equalled, Winchesters. Now remembering the two boy's histories he should have known they were mutants. After all hadn't he had their dad down for a wacko survivalist white supremacist type? The damn man probably brought up his two boys on the bull shit that they were God's gift to earth and that all other should kiss their asses where they went. And now that he thought about it, things did make sense about the Winchester's very odd file.

The murders of Jessica Moore and indeed the boy's own mother were probably orchestrated by Daddy dearest, and then passed onto Dean – which had to mean that one of them was a pyro or both. Unless of course; with Dean having the mind tricks, maybe Sam had all the really dangerous abilities and Dean had just been treating his little brother like a puppet.

Henrikson had read over those deaths quite carefully as he knew they had to be the catalyst for the Winchesters spiral into crime. John Winchester, probably had mind tricks just like Dean, and maybe had influenced little Sammy to kill his mother in the kid's nursery, blaming it on electrical malfunctions, which Henrikson knew couldn't true after spending hours looking over the building plans. It did seem improbable though that Sam could do that, since most mutations only developed during puberty, but who really did know with mutants? They were the wild carts of society after all.

And the explanation of mutants would explain how the Winchesters had been connected to all those mysterious deaths over the years. How they got into houses and brutally murdered people without a slip up (besides Dean's fingerprints that seemed to always pop up a few days after a murder, as if the brothers thought it was hilarious screwing with people's mind) and still at the same time, convinced the grieving friends or family of the deceased that they were the good guys! It had been staring Henrikson in the face since he had gotten this case and yet he had been blinded, possibly another one of Dean's...

He froze if the Winchesters' were into the mutant supremacist crap; could that mean, they knew Magneto? Henrikson's stomach flipped, it was a long shot and he had no way to prove it (not that he wanted too) but it was a well known fact that Magneto was a fully fledged killer. Dean's words from Milwaukee seemed to formulise in his head _'He was a hero'_ that's what that bastard had said about his father. Could Magneto fall into that category as well? To most mutants Magneto was a hero, with all his ideals and in Dean's world...

Henrikson sighed; as much as he wanted to be the one to book the Winchesters, he wasn't sure he wanted to go down this path. If he got them it could mean a promotion, but after the William Stryker issue the mutant community was jumping to scream that the government was being biased against them.

"Henrikson?" said Reid breaking through Henrikson's thoughts.

"Yeah Reid?"

"You missed the turn off,"

Henrikson grumbled and u turned the car. He drove for about a minute before turning off onto a smaller road.

* * *

_**Impala, Side of the Road, Washington**_

"Why did you stop the car?" was the first sound Dean heard as he cut the engine. Dean's green eyes stared out the front window, watching as small drops of rain began to fall. He turned to look at Sam and sighed, "Are you okay?"

"Answer my question." ordered Sam, eyes fierce, watching his brother's every move. Dean had never seen that kind of assertiveness from Sam, for in that moment Dean saw John in his little brother, so clearly. He felt his lip quiver slightly, his adam's apple growing heavy, and in his mind he kept on revisiting that same scene in which John told him off for leaving Sammy alone, after he had chased the Shtriga away.

"_How could you Dean? What the hell were you thinking?"_

"_Dad, I'm really so –"_

"_Answer the question,"_

Dean cast his eyes downward, staring at his boots as he shrugged, "Can't an older brother ask if his little brother is okay?"

"Dean, seriously cut the crap,"

"What crap Sam?" deadpanned Dean, not even sure why he was bothering to lie. He knew Sam had noticed something different about him, it's not too since both of them were literally tuned into each other's minds after living together on top of each other so long. Still, Dean didn't want to worry Sam, so he kept his face down and prepared to lie his ass off.

"Oh, like how all those people seemed to magically calm down," said Sam, sarcastically, running his hands through his hair.

"Maybe your psychic –"

"Don't lay this on me...hell that wasn't me, that was you," he said aggressively. Dean looked into his brother's eyes, suddenly a mute. He had to say something, he knew it but...

"I..."

"You don't know do you?" asked Sam, his voice softening slightly. Dean stared on hopelessly, he wished it was that easy, but since he was a Winchester it wasn't.

"I..."

"You do?" the fury had returned.

"I..."

"When the hell were you going to tell me?" snapped Sam, hands balled at his side, his brown bangs casting his face in shadow, except for his eyes that seemed to gleam with a cold and unnatural rage.

"Never," mumbled Dean, truthfully. Sam paused, confused, his mouth hanging open slightly, as he contemplated what Dean had just said. Dean sighed and knew right know he was opening a can of worms he'd rather throw in the dumpster.

"I said never Sam...its hard to explain," he shrugged, but at Sam's glare he continued, "Okay remember that time we were in New York? You were, what, like nine, and I got this really bad headache and had to go to hospital,"

"Sorta..."

Dean cut off Sam quickly, wanting to get it over with, "Well...this guy came and visited me. His name was Charles Xavier and –"

"Charles Xavier? The Charles Xavier?"

Dean stared at his little brother. His brother had heard of that guy? How? Sam's eyes seemed to light up for a moment, which Dean immediately noticed as the fan girl look, teenage girls get when they see they see someone famous. Though, instead of absolute adoration, there was also deep respect. Dean swallowed, "You know him?"

"Did a paper on his viewpoint of mutants, really amazing stuff, genius,"

Of course, did a paper, no wonder.

"Yeah well, he told me I was...a mutant," he let the last word hang and waited. Sam face was blank and then he stared to laugh, shaking slightly.

"You're kidding,"

"No," said Dean, and as Sam didn't stop he said in a resigned voice, "See this is why I never mentioned it,"

"If you were a mutant how come I never noticed? I mean that can't have been just it," said Sam, raising an eyebrow. Dean sighed. He knew what was going on in Sam's mind. All the physic jokes over the past two years probably hadn't been the wisest choice...damn why did God always have to come and kick him in ass.

"It was, Xavier put a mind block on me and that's it. We all went home and ate ice cream,"

"So he's a mutant?"

"Yeah college boy,"

"Why didn't you –?"

"Tell you or Dad. Well, telling Dad, I think you could picture what would happen pretty clearly," he paused, Sam nodding in slight agreement, and then he continued, "And you? No point, like I said, that was it. No more,"

Sam looked a bit miffed at that but Dean didn't care. There were some things his little brother _didn't_ need to know, and Sam had kept him in the dark – he still was on some things, so all was fair.

Sam face suddenly brightened and he asked sounding hopeful, "Do you think my powers are actually a mutation?"

"No," replied Dean bluntly. He wanted to say Sam was a mutant, but he wasn't, all the demonic crap was enough to prove that. After all why would a demon waste his time with a few special kids if they were really mutants. No those _kids_ weren't mutants, just humans trumped up with demonic powers.

"Why not? I mean that would make sense,"

"But it doesn't. You're powers are tied to yellow eyes Sammy, face it. All your visions were connected to him some way for example,"

"But he's dead so how come?" Sam paused, his face darkening, as his brain clicked. Dean watched his little brother murmured, _"Little prince..."_ softly. Dean felt his spine tingle at those words. He knew it had to be something to do with yellow eyes...or could it be something the Crossroads Demon had said? Briefly he recalled Sam saying something about her being a smartass, had she mentioned something...no she was just mucking around, she knew how to get under his skin so wouldn't the same apply for Sam. He breathed, no she whatever she had said had been a lie, demons lie; he knew that.

Sam sighed and looked outside the car window. He chuckled, "Oh, and you just shredded my last chance of feeling somewhat normal,"

"Glad to be of help," replied Dean, attempting to smile at the remark. He started the car up and drove off into the gathering night.


	4. Author's Note

**A/N:** I will be honest and say that while looking through all my fics I need to finish (I have this bad habit you see with starting things but not finishing), and deciding that I would finish them all by the time I was twenty, that sadly _The Freak Epiphany_ was not going to be included with that. I am leaving up the first couple of chapters for people to enjoy it, and if anyone wanted to adopt this please just PM me and I am more than happy to allow that.

So to new readers - I apoligise for this lack of ending. I am giving you fair warning now, however feel free to read on and to let your imagination fill in the rest. :)

Very sorry but being realistic here, and I have no interest or motivation to even finish this.


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